


Come Take The Weight Off Me Now

by TinyBat



Series: Bullets and Biohazards: All Things Grant and Jemma [8]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, post 1x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:05:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyBat/pseuds/TinyBat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you just need the right person, and what happens doesn't matter because they're right by you to catch you when you're falling and heal you when you're hurting. </p><p>Grant goes to Jemma after talking to May.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Take The Weight Off Me Now

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Rubiks Cube" by Athlete.

It was the latest in the series of lies he was feeding himself regarding Jemma Simmons, but lying was much easier than acknowledging the truth of his feelings and allowing things to change. He was going to see her with platonic, friendly intentions, nothing more, and nothing less. He’d distract himself, ignore how bone weary and emotionally ravaged he was because he wanted to see her smile at him. He knew she still wasn’t sleeping well after her fall, and he wasn’t going to sleep tonight, even if May had done him a favor and let him talk. He had gone back to his own room to shower and sober up, so he felt slightly less guilty.

Grant knocked on Jemma’s door, half hoping she wouldn’t be awake to answer.   "It’s Grant, are you awake?" he called through the door, as the muffled padding of feet could be heard on the other side. The door opened and there she was, looking alert, but almost relaxed. Jemma was standing in front of him wearing pajamas, blue carpet slippers, and a slightly confused expression. She didn’t have night-time callers of any variety of late, and certainly not of the calibre of Grant Ward since back in the academy.  

"I’ve got nothing else to be doing, come in. I take it you couldn’t sleep either." she said, stepping away to let him inside. She hadn’t brought much with her from the Bus but it was all unpacked and set aside should she need to access it. Grant shook his head, wincing at the motion. He’d taken quite a beating, but he wasn’t going to let that prevent him from spending time with her.

"No. Adrenaline. I wanted to ask how the call with your parents went, I watched you go off earlier to talk to them."  He settled himself in a chair that was slightly too small for his tall frame and Jemma put on the coffee maker for hot water, and set about hunting for tea bags. Grant didn’t like tea very much but he was grateful that she’d thought to do it. It was one of her coping mechanisms, and he thought that he’d have to find one as repetitive and non violent.

“It was difficult if i’m to be perfectly honest. They can’t know everything, so the lies are hard to keep straight. They think i’m working under a government contract and that’s all they can swallow. I’m sure they’d love me to come home and settle down, but this is what I want. I’m good at this, it’s a small part of making the world a better place, but it does matter.” She said, bringing the two ceramic coffee cups on the counter over.

Jemma settled into the other chair, and handed Grant a mug of steaming mint tea, it smelled terrific and a few of the aches, both physical and emotional seemed to ease. “You are good at this, Jemma. All of what you do. Especially facing down rageaholic asses with alien enhanced strength.” He looked at her, she hadn’t touched her tea, and she was worrying at the hem of her shirt, eyes downcast and red rimmed. Maybe her conversation had taken more out of her than she was willing to admit. He thought back to what the Asgardian said, she was beautiful, everything about her was. Yelling at her had been one of the lower points of his day.

  "You do know that I didn’t mean any of what I said, don’t you? I will never have a problem catching you, no matter how many times you fall." Grant said, sipping his tea and letting it burn his tongue. Normally he wasn’t a talker, but he felt like it was something Jemma needed to hear. She was extraordinary and nobody else in the world could do her job with her grace, passion, and determination.

"I know, you didn’t have a lot of control and I don’t blame you for it. As for falling, I only did it because I thought it was the best choice. I wasn’t going to risk your lives when i’m so easily replaceable. I work in a lab, there are always more scientists." The mug of tea in her hands was visibly shaking now, and she placed it on the side table between them. The admission had ended with her voice gently cracking and rage of a different kind welled up in Grant’s chest. He reached over and took one of her small hands in his, closing her fingers in his, hoping it’d calm the tremors. She was remarkable, a beacon of calm especially today, and the idea that she could so honestly question her own value wasn’t acceptable.

"Jemma, there is only one of you. There is no better person for your job, there’s nobody else who’d make Fitz sandwiches, or tell Skye to fix her buttons. You are worth saving, and you always will be. There isn’t a second that goes by where I regret hitting the water with you alive in my arms. Don’t let your parents shake you up." Grant gently squeezed her hand and she smiled at him, it was a little watery and fragile at first, but it then it was brilliant, almost blinding and it loosened the knot in his chest just as he knew it would. He was still hurting but for now he’d let May’s counsel be enough there.

"You’re hurt. Your face I mean. I won’t ask about what it is that you saw, if you don’t want to talk about it but those cuts on your face might get infected. Churches have floors and feet are on floors and it’s very dirty." Jemma said, eyeing the cuts on his cheek and forehead. He hadn’t cleaned them very thoroughly and this was another of her coping mechanisms. She fixed things, Jemma was a fixer in the way Grant was a protector. It was natural for them, and instinctive when a situation presented itself. Her free hand gently rested on his face and stilled him. He wasn’t going to move and she seemed totally fine with him keeping her other hand, she was now in doctor mode. Her hand on his cheek was cool and it took the sting out of the cuts. He had to stop himself from leaning into her palm and seeing just how much of his pain she could take away.   

"Well, you played doctor earlier, and it was interrupted by me hopped up on an infectious alien rage. If you want to clean those out, i’m sure you’ll be far better at it than I was." She would definitely be better, he didn’t have the skill for medical, and he was terrible with butterfly closures. Jemma nodded, gently pulling her hand from his, and moved to a box next to her bed, rummaging through it until she found what she was looking for. With a satisfied smile, she returned holding a small medical kit.

"I’ll do what I can to make sure it’s not too painful but it will sting." Jemma put on a pair of surgical gloves, and a small bottle of along with some q-tips. "I trust you not to maim me, or scratch me up, even if I deserve it for being such a jerk." He grinned, it made the cuts flare up and itch, but Jemma laughed and again he felt the burning, painful knot of guilt in his chest begin to unravel.  "I could just break your nose, very cleanly too. But I won’t. Alien infections are unfriendly enough. Do you mind moving closer to the lamp? The lighting isn’t great." Jemma shifted herself so she was sitting on the edge of her bed and Grant turned, pulling his chair around so it was directly next to the table with the lamp on it.

"Much better, and again. This will sting but if you’re still feeling apologetic then I won’t regret it hurting you." One of Jemma’s hands held Grant’s chin, tilting his head to the side so she could better examine the depth of the cuts as she cleaned. It really did sting, but he was playing martyr and Jemma was touching him so it wasn’t too bad.  "You’re a mess. Do I need you to take your shirt off to see if you’ve broken any ribs or will you be a good boy and just tell me?" she asked, dropping the bloodied q-tips in the trash, then methodically applying transparent closures over the scrapes.

Grant needed a moment, he liked sitting her and just being with her, and if she was still in fixer mode, having her look at the scrapes down his back wouldn’t be a bad thing. If for some reason she returned to being Jemma, he couldn’t be sure he’d maintain his professionalism. "No fractured or broken ribs, just a few bruises that’ll go away on their own." "You’re lying. You’ve bled through your shirt. Take it off and i’ll fix your shoulder too. It’s a miracle you ever got on without me." Jemma rolled her eyes, and playfully smacked him in the shoulder as he disrobed.

"Don’t I know it. The residuals of the healing factor are gone it’s just me taking care of these." Jemma blushed, enjoying the compliment. He was full of honest flattery tonight, and it drew her attention to just how much she enjoyed his company. "Can’t have you bleed on the chair too, so why don’t you just get on the bed then. I promise i’ll behave myself. No use causing more of a scandal. Unmarried man and woman and all that."

"Just be gentle with me, Doc. Scandal? I was beginning to think you didn’t know the meaning of the word." Grant said, smirking as Jemma methodically went about swabbing the cuts down and taping gauze over them. "Agent Ward, I could fill a book with the things you don’t know about me. No, don’t move. Oh damn." Grant had turned around, now very close to her, and she had dropped the bottle of antiseptic on the sheets. Normally she was hard to fluster, very easy to frustrate but making her blush was a prize worthy achievement. He’d managed to do it twice, and he was starting to enjoy it as much as her smiles.

"Something wrong?" he asked, making a point of keeping his eyes on her. She was Jemma again, and Jemma was all too human and part of him felt as though she might be interested in him. "Wrong, no. I’m just easily startled. You’re all set. I’m going to call down to the desk and see if they can’t bring up a dry set." Jemma indicated the damp sheets, and broke eye contact to put her things away. She was making a point of keeping her eyes from roaming along his exposed torso, and she wasn't succeeding.

  "No need. We’re probably the only two up and it’d be ridiculous to call down for sheets you won’t use. Mine are dry, and I promise i’ll keep my hands to myself, scandals to avoid and all that." The boldness of the statement surprised him almost as much as the ease with which he said it. Jemma turned an adorable shade of pink, but looked at the blue stained sheets and signed in resignation. "I suppose so. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about me not sleeping. It still feels like i’m falling sometimes and Fitz would worry if he knew." Grant stood up, putting his shirt back on, and helped Jemma strip her bed before they headed back to his room.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d invited her but it was good to just have someone to talk to. Her room had chairs, his just had a bed and a couch. "If you do think you want to sleep, I can take the couch. I can wake you up if you feel like you’re falling again." he said, as Jemma shut the door to his room and looked around. "That’s kind of you. I do hope you’ll at least try to sleep too. You had quite the day. As for the couch, if you can promise my honor as a lady won’t be impugned upon, then we can share the bed. Hotel couches are dreadful."

Jemma’s sense of humor was one of his favorite things, it was dry but it could also be absolutely terrible, or suggestive at a moments notice. She sat down on his still made bed and patted the spot beside her. She was almost a foot shorter than Grant even in heels so she didn’t take up much space.  He was honestly too exhausted to try anything other than kissing her and he was positive that she was aware, because she wouldn’t have accepted had sex been on the agenda for the small hours of the morning. They weren’t there yet, and even in spending small amounts of time with her, like by the tree and in the library he realized just how much he’d come to feel for Jemma and how much of it wasn’t professional. The clarity of her feelings for him was hard to discern but if he kissed her, she’d return it and then at least for tonight they would be entirely lost and that was too much.

He sat down, and stretched out, putting a respectable amount of distance between them.   Jemma flipped on the TV and they took turns trying to find something to occupy their minds. She also had turned off the light, hoping that it’d lend some ease to at least one of them sleeping. Jemma stopped the constant hum of the changing channels when Grant found a documentary on planet earth. It was mindless, but beautiful and they could just look and not talk. Jemma was clearly very upset by his encounter but she’d wait for him to come to her about it, and this approach made him appreciate her. He wasn’t ready to say anything just yet, not with her so close to him.

She had settled in with her head on his good shoulder and his arm wrapped around her. It had just happened and neither of them said a word about it, lest they give their full attention to it and it ended. after about an hour, she was lightly dozing and Grant turned down the volume on the TV so as not to wake her. She looked peaceful, and it was a good change from the exhaustion she has been feeling after their day and the call to her parents. Grant did his best to stay up, and catch her should she wake up falling, but he was overcome by his own set of exhaustions as well and it was the most rest either of them had in quite some time.  

He woke up first, with her head on his chest and her arm draped around his waist. He had both arms around her, holding her to him, and his head was resting comfortably just above hers. For a moment he forgot where he was, and it was blissful, reality then of course set in and Jemma woke up, the unconscious shift had roused her. A silent agreement passed between them that they could spare another hour or two since they didn’t have to leave until noon, and Grant pulled the blanket up from the foot of the bed to cover them both.

Whatever they were, even though it lacked definition was very real but neither of them would mention it quite yet. For just a few hours they were simply two people trying to ease each other’s pain, and that was fine. How they went from here, only time would tell but this was a mutual acknowledgement that being more than what they are was absolutely acceptable.


End file.
